The Philippines' presidential wannabes

Looking for a hero

In a process designed for villains

WHEN Fidel Ramos was president, in 1992-98, he used to lament that outsiders often regard elections in the Philippines as a kind of carnival. In fact they are not just serious but sometimes lethal, as demonstrated by a terrible massacre this week on the southern island of Mindanao (see article). Even so, the parade of characters who have applied to register as candidates for president includes one whose ambition is to be emperor of the world and another who can crow like a rooster. The Commission on Elections will probably reject such people as “nuisance” candidates after the deadline for registration on December 1st. That would still leave a wide field of candidates generous-spirited voters might deem “serious”.

Pulse Asia, a pollster, infers from the results of its most recent survey that its respondents prefer candidates who have a “clean public record”—ie, who are not considered corrupt. Voters seem to be hoping for a transformation in politics after the scandal-plagued administration of President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.

Four candidates stand out in the opinion polls. The favourite in Pulse Asia's survey was Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino. Mr Aquino is an unremarkable senator, but happens to be the son of Corazon Aquino, a former president and nemesis of the dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, revered for her almost saintly political demeanour. With her death in August it dawned on voters that her son may have inherited this trait.

Mr Aquino's nearest challenger is another senator, Manuel “Manny” Villar. A businessman whose rags-to-riches career may inspire voters, he is tainted by suspicion among his fellow-senators that he fiddled with legislation to benefit his private business. Then there is Joseph “Erap” Estrada. Mr Estrada has already been president. He was deposed and sentenced to life in prison for corruption, but later pardoned. Many poor Filipinos still think he is the kind of Robin Hood character that he used to play in his previous career as a film actor. He will probably end up being disqualified from running.

There are several other candidates, far behind in the polls. These include Gilbert “Gibo” Teodoro, a lawyer and former defence secretary, who is the ruling party's candidate. His association with the Arroyo administration will probably ruin his chances. Party affiliations count for little in Philippine politics, and policies (about which candidates have uttered barely a word) even less. A successful candidate needs only popularity, allies to fill his cabinet and give him some clout in Congress, and money for his campaign. And a popular candidate can always find allies and money. A presidential campaign costs more than 3 billion pesos ($64m). Fellow politicians and campaign contributors (usually rich families and companies) back potential winners, expecting in return a share of the spoils when their man or woman takes office.

The process is known as “transactional politics” and usually winnows out the no-hopers. But if the voters in next year's election are really wishing for a president they can trust to clean up government, it will inevitably reduce the appeal of the remaining candidates. The more opportunist allies the candidates gather and the more campaign funds they raise, the less trustworthy they will seem. When the carnival is over, the voters are likely to be left with a president whose priority will not be a hoped-for reform, but settling the transactions made during his campaign.